“Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. Earles threw down his pen with a little exclamation. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. I thought it would be magnificent to have a great house in Paris, and more money than any other woman. Spurlock then?" "I imagine that Mr. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. Then Mike came along. ‘I am nine-and-twenty,’ he answered.
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